#-but now i just breeze past them like it's another tuesday

[skullzy20]

reminiscing about my old dauntless posts

[lovebugism]

Omg bug we need a part two of “mean” Eddie and reader going on their little date 🤭 if you are up for writing it ofc 😌

pt. 2 of this fic

You didn’t show.

Maybe you just got lost. Eddie figures he shouldn’t have expected someone like you to know where The Hideout was. Or maybe you lost track of time. — but he’d told you the doors opened at seven o’clock sharp, and you’d repeated it back to him. He knows you did because you’d said it in that voice you use when you get all shy, as soft and as low as your meek gaze when you peered at him through your lashes.

But you weren’t just late. You weren’t fashionably late, either. You just never showed up.

Eddie wishes he didn’t care as much as he did.

He told himself he didn’t when you weren’t there at seven, but he looked for you in the meager crowd of twenty when eight o’clock rolled around anyway. 

He’d wanted to see you in the front row. He dreamt of putting on the best show The Hideout’s ever seen right before dedicating some cheesy love ballad to you. 

“This is for a really special someone in the crowd tonight,” he would’ve said into the microphone that smelled like beer. “You know who you are. Don’t let this go to your head, either, alright?” 

He even made the band practice Hysteria by Def Leppard so he could play it for you that night — so the lyrics could tell you everything he couldn’t — but you weren’t there to hear them. 

They ended up playing Love Bites instead.

He spends another two hours moonlighting as a rockstar.

Still in his ripped jeans and eyeliner, he slings a towel over his shoulder and ties an apron around his waist — a busboy all over again. He always forgets how sleazy The Hideout is until he’s got to clean it up. 

He mops sticky floors and wipes down grimy tables and tries to ignore the stinging in his chest every time he remembers that you were supposed to keep him company through it all.

A knock sounds at the front door at eleven o’clock. 

It’s Tuesday night — the place is empty now. Eddie’s been around long enough to know when drunks are out looking for a fix.

“We’re closed!” he shouts, more focused on scrapping off the syrupy ringed stain on the table than the relentless inebriate outside.

“C’mon, Eddie, it’s cold!” a familiar voice pleads, muffled through the door. “You’re not mad enough to let me freeze to death out here, are you?”

Eddie nearly breaks his neck with how quickly he turns to look over his shoulder. 

You stand behind the foggy glass, mostly blurry but still beautiful. The bouquet of purple and red tulips is nearly as pretty as the smile your pair them with. Your floral skirt swishes around your ankles as the wind blows. Eddie winches when he sees you shiver.

He rushes to the door, scrambling with the keyring clipped to his belt loop. His sweaty hands fumble with the chain. It takes him three tries to get it in the lock. 

“Shit. Sorry,” he stammers. “I didn’t think it was you.”

“I figured. It’s okay.” 

You walk through the door he holds open for you, the spring night breeze following close behind. Eddie shuts and locks the door again.

You spin on your heel to face him and hold the flowers out between you. “These are for you,” you tell him — soft and low and timid.

Eddie grins.

“These are very metal, sweetheart,” he teases. The plastic wrapping crinkles as he takes them by the stem.

“I felt bad for being so late,” you grimace. “Didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

“What flower shop is even open this time of night?”

“Zippy’s,” you answer curtly, gaze ducking down to your shoes a moment later.

“You went to a gas station all the way across town to get me flowers?”

You nod.

“No wonder you were late,” he scoffs. 

He saunters past you, then spins so he’s walking backward and facing you. His wild hair sways around his face. He clutches the bouquet to his chest. “Here I thought you off seeing some other schmuck.”

You roll your eyes, knowing no other schmuck has ever given you the time of day like Eddie has.

“I was late because of work,” you correct. Before you know it, you’re rambling. “I wasn’t on schedule for closing, but my asshole manager wouldn’t let me clock out. And I couldn’t call you because I don’t have your number, and I couldn’t find The Hideout in the yellow pages because it’s so old and—”

“Hey. It’s okay,” Eddie assures, practically cooing. It’s the softest he’s ever been with you, and he looks at you just the same — chocolate eyes melting as they twinkle at you. You’re left grieving his gaze when he turns to set the flowers on the counter. 

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” 

Through burning cheeks, you tease. “I thought we agreed you weren’t gonna get soft on me.”

“Oh? You thought that meant I cared that you came?” he scoffs, obviously joking. 

He squints down at you when you appear at his side — turns and presses his hip into the counter, and props his elbow along the top of it. “I’m just happy I got you outta the house. You’re like a damn hermit, you never do anything fun.”

Your face scrunches in discontent. “I have fun!” you correct.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Eddie retorts, nudging your shoulder as he walks past you again — this time heading toward the kitchen. “Sit down. I’ll make you something to eat.”

You’re grateful when he walks to the back without looking over his shoulder at you, lest he become a witness to the beam on your lips that’s far too bright to hide.

Eddie Munson is totally soft on you. 

It’s a good thing, too. Because you’re all but melting for him now.

You sit at the bar with a sweaty beer in your hand. “It’s obviously cheap, but it goes down sweet enough,” Eddie warned when he’d handed it to you. You sip from it, leaning back in your chair with your feet thrown on the one beside you — totally unable to take your eyes off the boy.

You watch through the partition behind the counter as Eddie makes a haphazard effort of basketing leftover chicken tenders and fries. He sets them beneath an orange lamp to warm again.

“A rockstar, busboy, and chef, huh?” you lilt, hiding your smile behind the beer you bring to your lips. “What else can you do?”

“When there’s a pretty girl in front of me?” he retorts as he swipes the crumbs from his palms. He looks at you with a smug grin and shrugs. “Just about anything, I’d guess.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Flirt with me. It’s gross. We don’t do that.”

Eddie laughs to himself, honey eyes squinting. “I’ve been flirting with you for about a year and a half now, sweetheart, but… Thanks for finally noticing.”

He carries the ruby red baskets in both hands when he comes out to sit next to you. You slide your legs off the stool for him — an invitation to be close to you without either of you having to ask.

“Am I gonna get food poisoning from this?” you joke, holding the greasy chicken strip between your fingers.

“The cook made them today,” he scoffs, already tossing a fry into his mouth. He talks as he chews. “Besides, we’d be getting sick together. What’s more romantic than that?”

God, you even think he’s cute when he talks with his mouth full. You’re so far gone for him, it’s not even funny.

Eddie smiles when you take a bite. Your eyes flutter shut on their own accord, your empty stomach thanking you. 

“Good, huh?”

“Amazing,” you correct.

“Gross bars make the best food, I swear.”

You laugh softly together. Def Leppard croons from the speakers overhead. You wonder if Eddie knew this was your favorite band or if your favorite song is only playing by chance. You’re warmed either way.

“How was, uh… How was the show?” you ask him, as curious as you are desperate to fill the silence.

Eddie wipes his palms on his jeans and nods. “It was okay. Same as usual — the crowd was drunk enough to enjoy anything we did.”

“I’m sure it was great,” you retort at his self-deprecating tone, picking shyly at the fries rather than meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

He figures he doesn’t need to tell you about his bleeding heart that was close to breaking a couple of hours ago. You put a bandage over it the second you showed up at The Hideout — with flowers, no less. He’s just glad that you came at all. He meant it when he said that none of the rest matters.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie shrugs through the food in his cheek. “There’s always next time.”

You grin and knock the leg of his chair with your foot. “Already asking me out on a second date, huh?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it,” he jokes through glowing cheeks. He tilts his head towards his shoulder. “But I’m not paying for your ticket next time, princess.”

Your smile widens. You prop your cheek on your knuckles, unabashedly gazing over at him. “That’s okay. I’ll be in the front row either way.”

“Promise?” Eddie’s lilt edges on teasing and sincerity. He momentarily abandons his own food as he mirrors your positioning, not realizing he’s leaning closer to you until he’s already doing it.

“Promise,” you nod with a smile so bright he thinks it could rival the sun.

He continues to shorten the distance between you — coming closer closer closer. You watch him, amused, and with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

You want him to kiss you. No, fuck that, you need him to kiss you. But more than anything, you need him to do it first — a cheeky little something to over his head when you’re kissing him later.

And you don’t mean to laugh, but the thought makes a giggle spill from your lips before you can stop it.

The bubbly sound knocks Eddie from his stupor. 

The tip of his nose just barely brushes your own. His glazed-over eyes fly open. He remains still, his breath fanning over your cupid’s bow, as he blinks owlishly at you. The pretty pink mouth he was about to kiss you with falls softly agape. 

His head jerks backward a second later, almost in disgust. 

“Shit. Sorry,” he curses. His body shifts away from yours completely as he turns his attention to his half-eaten basket of fries. “That was— That wasn’t cool of me.”

Still smiling, you reach a hand out for his leather-clad forearm. You caress him soothingly there in reassurance. “No. It’s okay—”

“No, that was really fucking weird,” he says, forcing out a laugh.

“Right?” you scoff. “Why would Eddie Munson, the chef-busboy-rockstar, wanna kiss a girl like me?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, tilting his wild head to his shoulder to look at you. 

He finds you with a gleam in your eye, one that’s not usually there because, most times, he’s too busy making fun of you.  A smile hints at the corners of your mouth, barely there and beautiful. It’s a bit smug — twinkling with the satisfaction of finally having the upper hand.

Eddie figures it might pay off to be soft with you sometimes. He never wants you to stop looking at him like this.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he confesses quietly.

Your smile widens. “I know.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats again, eyes flitting away from yours.

“Don’t be,” you promise. Your nose scrunches softly. “…Wanna give it another go?”

His gaze snaps back up to yours. He has to fight the urge to tease you, lest he ruin the moment he’s been thinking about for months. He’ll be damned if he lets the opportunity slip away from him now.

“Sure you’re not gonna laugh at me this time?” he lilts, looking at you from halfway beneath his lashes.

“I’m not gonna laugh at you,” you promise, though a grin’s already threatening to pull at your mouth.

“Promise?”

“Well, I can show you better than I can tell you.”

You let Eddie lean in first. He exhales a heavy breath from his nose that fans against your skin when your lips collide. The rosy plush of them lock with yours like they were made to do it. His palms rise to your jaw, keeping you tucked neatly against him when the moment threatens to pull you away. 

Your hands migrate to the lapel of his leather jacket. You tug him further to you — a promise that you’re not going anywhere.

You don’t laugh into his kiss this time.

You smile.

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Seven

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

Javi P got a lot of attention last week, both his visit to the bakery and for the many Pickled Peña fics he starred in. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments! It really means more than you probably reaslise! It's been a rough week and I feel lucky to have found a great community here and to have found so much fun and enjoyment in writing to keep my mind off things.

This week's Pedro boy is dedicated to my lovely friend @secretelephanttattoo who is not only an amazing writer, but also one of the best people I've meet on Tumblr. Love you ❤

Series Master List

Working in a bakery almost every day means you pick up on people’s habits, whether they come into the shop or not. You know the bookshop owner across the streets always arrives ten minutes late on Tuesdays. The bodega owner next to your bakery always picks up his dry cleaning on Fridays and the dry cleaning lady always throws out her trash on Thursday evening. And you know that the cute guy with a dimpled smile always walks past your shop at about eight forty-five every weekday morning. 

He hasn’t always walked past, it started just a few weeks ago, but now it’s routine. You’d first noticed him when he stumbled over something on the sidewalk, smacking his hand against your window to keep his balance, and making you jump. He’d given you an apologetic smile, that’s how you know he’s got a deep dimple on his left cheek. And a really, really, great smile. 

The next morning you noticed him again as he glanced in through the window and smiled, a quick wave as he hurried down the street. And the same thing the next morning and then it was a routine. Around eight forty-five, between customers, you’d keep glancing over at the window until you see him walk past in his well fitted business suit, always a tie flapping in the breeze. He has a routine with those too you notice; a blue tartan pattern on Mondays, slate gray on Tuesdays, navy blue with white dots on Wednesday and the then tartan one again on Thursdays before he ditches the ties on Fridays. You wouldn’t go as far as saying that seeing him is the highlight of your day, but when one day he doesn’t pass by, you notice. And when the rest of the week passes and he doesn’t show up at all, you feel a little bit sad, even though you never even spoke with him. 

Monday morning, eight thirty, and you’re working your way through the morning rush, serving coffee and selling croissants and cinnamon rolls, he suddenly appears again. But this time he’s in front of your counter, holding on to a credit card as he smiles down at you. 

“Hi,” he says, the dimple deep in his cheek, “I thought it was about time I stopped by and said hello properly.” 

“Hi,” you say, a little breathless, he’s even cuter, and handsome, up close, and you’re suddenly very aware of your shiny face, straggly hair and stained apron. 

“I’m Marcus, Marcus Pike,” he says, holding out his hand, “I’m the creepy guy who slams into your window and never comes inside.” 

“Hi Marcus,” you reply, taking his hand, hoping yours isn’t too sweaty and clammy, “I’m the creepy baker who stares at you every morning.” 

He laughs at that, a warm sound that makes your spine tingle as his eyes crinkle at the corners, a wide smile making another dimple pop on his cheek. 

“I guess we need to be less creepy then,” he chuckles, “maybe I can start by buying a coffee like a normal customer?” 

“That sounds like a good start,” you smile back at him, “what would you like?” 

“A cappuccino, please,” he glances up at the coffee menu behind you. 

“Coming right up, anything else?” You motion at the fresh croissants and pain au chocolat piled up on the counter and he looks at them with longing. 

“I would love too, really…but my job, we’ve got this fitness test thing in a few weeks and I’ve got to be in shape for that. That’s why I started walking to work, instead of taking the metro.” 

“Come back when the test is done then, if you pass, it’ll be on the house,” you wink at him over your shoulder as you start preparing his cappuccino. 

“Now there’s the motivation I need,” Marcus laughs, stepping back and glancing over the selection inside the display cases, “But you don’t have my favorite I think.” 

“No? What’s your favorite then?” you ask, “No, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess.” 

“Ok,” Marucs smiles as you hand him the cappuccino in a takeaway cup,” what’s my favorite?” 

You look him up and down, and he grins and takes a step back so that you can see all of him, holding out his arms and giving you a little spin. 

“Hmm…business suit, always a tie, well polished shoes and a job that requires fitness tests…” you hum, enjoying the chance he’s given you at properly taking him in. His suit stretches almost  tight over his broad shoulders, hugging his biceps, and when he holds out his arms, the shirt underneath hangs on for dear life. The suit jacket lifts up over his butt as he turns and you’re given the privilege of eyeing it for the first time. It’s just as cute as the rest of him and you have to mentally chastise yourself for ogling. 

“What’s your guess?” he smiles, coming to a stop in front of you again. 

“Carrot cake, but you wipe off the frosting to stay healthy,” you say and he manages to look both cute, amused and offended at the same time. 

“No way, I would never sacrifice the frosting!” he says, pretending to be insulted as he grins, “but nice try, I really like carrot cake, but it’s not my favorite.” 

“Hmm…maybe-”

“No,” he interrupts you with a wave of his hand, “you get only one guess per day, you can guess again tomorrow.” He gives you a warm smile and as he taps his credit card to pay for the coffee.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, keep guessing,” he says, stepping aside to let the man who’s just stepped into the shop approach the counter. With a final wave he disappears out through the door. 

The next morning he turns up again, as the morning rush dies down, and orders another cappuccino. 

“Canéles,” you say, pointing at him. “Fancy, French, just the thing a guy in a smart, well tailored suit would like.” 

Marcus grins and shakes his head, “I don’t even know what they are, but keep guessing!”

“Give me more clues then!” you protest as he takes a sip of the coffee you just handed him. 

“Hmm…I used to play bass in a band in college,” he says and you raise your eyebrows. He does not look like a bass player, or any kind of band member for that matter. 

“Special brownies?” you ask with a wink and Marcus almost spits out his coffee. 

“Definitely not,” he splutters, chuckling as he wipes his chin, “and you only get one guess per day.” 

“Says who?” you ask, but you already know the answer, Marcus’s grin tells you. 

“I do, my game, my rules,” he gives you a wink and heads for the door, “see you tomorrow!” 

Wednesday he comes in a little bit earlier and hands you a travel mug. 

“This looks brand new,” you say and he nods. 

“Decided I should save on the environment, and your takeaway mugs,” he smiles, leaning on the counter while you start preparing his coffee, “What’s your guess today then?” 

“Cinnabons,” you say, glancing over your shoulder, feeling butterflies erupt in your belly when his face splits into a wide grin. But he shakes his head and you give him a mock scowl. 

“You’re impossible to guess!” 

“Keep trying, gives me a reason to come in every morning,” he replies, “Not that I need a reason though,” he adds, a pink flush suddenly creeping up from beneath his shirt collar as he gives you an uncharacteristically shy smile. 

“I’ll keep trying if you promise to keep coming in,” you smile back at him, you can feel heat creeping up your own cheeks as you hand him his travel mug. And of course his fingers touch yours, just a light brush, but enough for both of you to glance down at your hands. You jump a little as his breath catches and when you look up at him again, his lips are parted and you see the tip of his tongue peak out, just for a split second, before he composes himself. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles, “thanks for the coffee again.” 

Thursday he’s a little bit late, and he hurries through the door with his tie hanging around his neck, untied. 

“Sorry, I worked late last night and slept through my alarm this morning,” he huffs as he reaches the counter. 

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” you smile, “I only sell you your coffee,” you hand him the cappuccino you’ve already made him and he gives you a grateful look, “and let me fix your tie while you caffeinate yourself.” 

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he sighs and takes a long sip of the coffee as you walk around the counter and stand in front of him. You look up at him, taking hold of each end of his tie, and you suddenly realize you’ve never been this close to him before. There’s always been a counter between the two of you. Now he’s standing barely a foot away and you can smell his aftershave, warm and woody, as you adjust the tie. 

“Over…under…over again…” you mumble to yourself, trying to remember what your dad taught you, “up through the neck and down…there, got it,” you say, gently tightening the tie up against the collar as Marcus lifts his chin up, “but you might want to adjust it.” 

“No, it feels perfect,” he says, giving you a warm smile, “thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you smile back at him, tilting your head up a little to be able to meet his eyes now that he’s standing so close. You should really move back but he smells good and his eyes are so soft looking, the way he just smiles at you. 

“What’s your guess?” he asks, smoothing his hand down over his tie as you drop yours to the side. 

“What?” you mumble, slightly distracted by how his throat bobs just over the knot in the tie where your hands just where. 

“What’s your guess for my favorite baked thing?” Marcus says again and you blink, catching on. 

“Oh, of course! Uhmm…brownies? But real brownies, gooey in the middle and crunchy corners?” 

“Oh….that is definitely high up on my list, but not my absolute favorite, you’re getting close though,” he grins at you, putting down his coffee mug on the counter. 

“I’ve got to run, but….are you free tomorrow, after work?” he asks, his eyebrows knotting together as he waits for your answer. 

“Yeah, I’m free,” you say, you can’t stop the smile breaking out on your face at the question and he smiles back at you. 

“If you want, I’d really like to have dinner with you, maybe we can both drink something this time?” 

“That sounds nice, I’d like that, Marcus,” you reply, butterflies multiplying in your belly as he gently puts his hand on your arm, “and I’ll definitely figure out what your favorite is by then.” 

“It’s a date then,” he grins, “you supply my favorite and I’ll sort the rest, I’ll come by at closing, ok?” 

You nod and before you know it, he’s leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” 

Friday morning Marcus stops by and buys his, by now, regular coffee, “So what’s my favorite?” he asks with a cheeky grin and you stick your tongue out at him. 

“Not telling you,” you smirk at him, “I’ll serve it tonight, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it figured out now.”

“I can’t wait,” he chuckles, winking at you before he grabs his travel mug and hurries off to work. 

Your day drags on and your nerves tingle every time you glance up at the clock at the wall. When the shop quietens down after lunch you prepare what you hope is Marcus’s favorite dessert, putting it in the fridge for baking later. 

Just a few minutes before the clock hits closing time you hear the jingle of the doorbell and look up to see Marcus step through it. He’s changed out of his usual business suit and is wearing a leather jacket over a gray t-shirt and jeans, a bright smile as he gives you a wave. You ring up your final customer, bidding them a nice weekend as Marcus lingers to the side, and then you get a chance to say hello to him as you go to lock the door and flip the sign. 

“Hi Marcus,” you smile at him as he steps forward.

“Hi,” he says, leaning down and brushing his lips against your cheek, leaving the spot tingling and your skin warm. When he straightens up he smiles at you, his eyes soft and crinkling at the corners, “I hope you don’t mind, but I have a slightly unusual plan,” he says, pointing to the duffel bag he’s got hanging from his shoulder, “Dinner’s on me, but in your kitchen.” 

“You’re cooking for me?” you ask and he nods. 

“Seems only fair, you’re making dessert, so I do the rest….well…” he gives a little embarrassed shrug, “with a little bit of help from my favorite restaurant.” 

“Sounds like a nice plan,” you say, putting your hand on his arm and his smile brightens again, “come, let me show you the kitchen then.” 

You lead him past the counter and into the back room, the kitchen clean and ready for tomorrow, except the dessert for Marcus. “What do you need?” you ask, “Help yourself to anything.” 

“First of all, I need you to sit down,” he says with a smile, looking around the kitchen for a chair and spotting only the stool with wheels on, “Not many places to sit in here, huh?” 

“When would I have time to just sit around?,” you laugh, taking your apron off and throwing it in the dirty laundry basket in the back room, “I usually just sit on the counter.” You heave yourself up onto the large workbench as Marcus starts unpacking his duffel bag. He’s hung his jacket on the hook by the door and now he’s crouched down, digging through the content at his feet. The gray t-shirt hugs his shoulders, stretching tight over his back and riding up, exposing a strip of bare skin just above his jeans. It’s so far from the man in the well fitted business suits you’ve been seeing every morning for the past few weeks, a much more relaxed Marcus. 

“Do you wear the suits every day because your job requires you too?” you ask, taking the opportunity to stretch your tired back as you get settled on the counter, baking all day takes a toll on your body. 

“Yeah, I don’t mind them but I prefer the days when I don’t have to wear them,” he answers, standing up and placing a stack of boxes next to you on the counter. “No peeking,” he says in a stern voice, smirking at you and you hold up your hands. 

“I’m not touching anything,” you reply, “But I never asked what you work with?” 

“I work at the FBI, with art theft,” he says and you widen your eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you’re an FBI agent?”

“Yeah,” he furrows his brow as he looks over at you, “do you..is- is that a problem?” 

“No, no, not at all, I’ve just never met an FBI agent. It makes being a baker seem very tame is all.” 

“Maybe tame is good sometimes,” he chuckles and looks around the kitchen and his brow furrows again, “Hhmm…hang on, I’ll be right back,” he says, grabbing the bag and going out into the shop again, “No peeking!”. 

“What are you doing?” you call out to him as you hear tables and chairs being moved around. 

“Nothing, just setting things up, just wait there,” he calls back and a few minutes later he comes back to the kitchen. 

“Now, let’s get dinner ready,” he smiles, “Plates and a small saucepan?” 

You direct him to them and soon he’s arranging food on two smaller plates. 

“Miss,” he says, winking at you and holding out his arm, “Let me show you to your table.” 

“How nice, please lead the way,” you smile at him and slip off the counter, taking his arm. He brings you out into the café part of the bakery and leads you to one of the small round tables by the window. He’s put a white table cloth on it and set two candles in the middle, another few candles arranged around the shop. The sun is setting outside and in the dim light of the shop the candles spread a golden glow, giving it an atmosphere you’ve never seen before. 

“Marcus…this is lovely, I’ve never had my shop look so nice before,” you say, sitting down as he pulls out the chair for you, “It’s so…romantic,” you let it slip out without thinking but Marcus puffs up a little and beams down at you.  

“I’m glad you like it, I really like your shop,” he smiles, “and I really like the shop owner, I wanted to make it special for you.”  

“You might be my very favorite customer, Marcus,” you smile back up at him, your cheeks heating up and he grins. 

“First course is coming right up,” he says with a smile and disappears into the kitchen. 

“You should give food walking tours of the city,” you joke as Marcus smiles at you from across the table. “I’m so full but I still want to go and eat at all your favorite places right now.”��

“I’d take them here first,” he says, “and make sure everyone knows where the best bakery in town is, but…” he leans forwards and grins at you, “Speaking of baking, I want to know if you’ve guessed my favorite dessert yet.” 

You give him a soft laugh and mimic his movement, leaning forward to meet him across the table, “I think I might have, I just need to go and turn on the oven and then they’ll be ready in a few minutes. But I just realized, you never said what my reward would be for guessing correctly.” 

Marcus hums, tapping his long fingers on his chin as he looks at you, a mischievous smile making the corner of his mouth curl up. 

“I don’t think we agreed on anything, but if you go turn on the oven and I’ll come up with something good,” he says, his smile widening, making your skin heat up as his eyes seem to suggest something enticing. 

Thank god for your industrial oven, it turns on and heats up to the right temperature in no time. While you pull out the dessert plates and take the ice cream out to soften, it hums to life and pings. The dessert goes in and you set a timer and go back out to Marcus, sitting down at the table again. 

“It just needs a few minutes,” you tell him, “did you come up with a reward?” 

“Yeah, I did, but what if you guess wrong?” he asks, “I need a reward too.” 

“If I’m wrong…” you say, thinking out loud, “you tell me your favorite, and no matter what it is, I’ll make it for you.” 

“That’s a nice idea,” Marcus smiles, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, the t-shirt stretching tight over his biceps, you swear you can hear a seam ripping behind him, “but I like my idea better.” 

“What’s your idea then?” you ask, giving him a suspicious look, he’s got a very happy grin as he looks at you. 

“If you guess wrong, I can take you on a second date,” he says and you laugh, that’s probably the easiest reward he could’ve asked for and you see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he sees your laughter.

“Hardly a difficult reward, Marcus,” you smile at him and he gives you a warm smile back, “But what if I guess right, what’s my reward then?” 

“If you guess right, you get to take me on a second date,” he grins and you feel little happy bubbles in your chest as his soft eyes stay locked with yours, you can’t help but smile widely back at him. 

“Deal, Marcus,” you say, holding out your hand to him. He leans forward and takes it, his large hand enveloping yours, thick fingers gently closing around yours as you both shake on it. 

“I can smell chocolate,” he grins, glancing at the kitchen, “I think you’re on the right track.” 

“I know you, Marcus,” you laugh, “all serious business suits on the outside, but a wild child on the inside, bass player and all.” 

“Hardly the definition of a ‘wild child’,” Marcus chuckles, “now, if I’d been lead singer or lead guitar, then maybe.” 

“Well, the dessert is only a little bit of a wild child, the defining factor is that at its heart, it’s very romantic, just like you.” 

Marcus gives you a slightly embarrassed smile, “It’s that obvious, huh?” 

“That you’re a romantic? Of course, but I like it,” you smile softly back at him, turning off the timer that’s just gone off, “Moment of truth. Did I guess right or not?” 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m getting a second date either way,” he says, winking at you as you stand up and head to the kitchen. 

Pulling them out of the oven you quickly plate the dessert and scoop up the vanilla ice cream, finishing with a light dusting of cocoa. Your hip bumps open the door to the shop and Marcus watches you eagerly as you bring the plates over and set them down on the table. 

“If this is what I think it is, you’ve got yourself a second date,” he jokes and grins up at you. 

“That’s not helpful, Marcus,” you laugh, “either way, you’ve got yourself a second date.” 

“I know, that’s the beauty of this deal,” he chuckles, picking up his dessert spoon and looking at you expectantly, “Can I guess?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” you smile and he pokes the dessert lightly. 

“Chocolate fondant?” he asks, looking up at you, raising his eyebrows, before he digs the spoon in and cuts it open. The soft chocolate cake exterior gives way to a thick river of chocolate that pours out of the interior of the little cake. Marcus giggles and scoops up a bite of both cake and sauce and puts the spoon in his mouth, humming at the flavor and closing his eyes. You watch with pride as he tips his head back and moans, the spoon still in his mouth as he sucks it clean. 

“How did you know?” he asks, a bright smile on his face when he’s finally done with his first bite. 

You shrug and smile back at him, “You’re not a health freak, you didn’t recognise the more complicated French pastry, you like gooey brownies and you’re a romantic. Chocolate fondant seemed like the obvious choice. Decadent, sweet and just the right amount of fancy,” you grin at him. 

You take a spoonful from your own fondant and put it in your mouth, watching the chocolate flow out from the inside, just the right amount of undercooked to keep the inside flowing and warm. The chocolate flavor spreads across your tongue, paired with a hint of vanilla and salt, rich and warm and you let an involuntary moan escape. When you glance up you don’t miss the dark look Marcus gives you, his eyes fixed on your mouth as he takes another spoonful. 

“You really guessed right, I love chocolate fondant, but I’ve never had one this good before,” he says, humming around the big piece in his mouth. “How come you don’t have them in the shop? Actually, don’t have them in the shop, I’d buy them all every week.” 

You giggle at his blissed out face as he takes another big bite, dropping his head into the palm of his hand as he sucks the spoon clean, “It’s like hot chocolate, brownie and chocolate sauce all in one fluffy soft shell of cake.” 

“I’m glad I guessed right, seeing your happy face makes me happy,” you smile at him and the tips of his ears go a pink in the dim light as he clears his throat and chuckles. 

“Coming to your bakery makes me happy,” he smiles, scraping the last bit of fondant from the plate while he looks up at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and it’s your time to feel the heat rise in your face, his grin widens as he sees you shift awkwardly in your chair and glance at him with a smile.  

“Really, getting my morning coffee has become the highlight of my day,” Marcus says, “How sad isn’t that?” 

“Not sad, you coming into the bakery every morning has been the highlight of my day,” you say, finishing off the fondant and putting the spoon down while Marcus watches you with a smile. He suddenly pushes his chair back and stands up, holding his hand out to you. 

“Dance with me,” he says, the warmth of his hand spreading across your palm and down your arm as he pulls you to your feet. 

“There’s no music, Marcus,” you laugh but he just grins and spins you around before catching you in his arms, one around your waist, the other still holding on to your hand as you put your own hand on his shoulder. 

“Who cares about the music,” he says, gently swaying you back and forth while he gives you a soft smile, “it was just a clever ruse to get to hold you.” His hand on the small of your back is lightly stroking the fabric of your shirt and you’re very close to him, pressed up against his chest as he holds you near, moving slowly in a circle. You can smell his aftershave, mixed in with the dark chocolate of the dessert and without thinking, your hand slips into the soft looking curls at the back of his neck. Marcus tilts his head as your fingers play with the silky strands, letting go of your hand and moving it slowly to cup your face, his thumb stroking the soft skin on your cheek as he seems to inhale slightly and dip his head to yours.  

His lips are just as soft as you’ve imagined them, warm, gentle, as he parts them and tastes you. His steady hand holds you close, the curve of his strong nose brushing up against your cheek as he angles his head to better kiss you. You feel your fingers gripping his hair, willing him to press you even closer to him. All of his warm, solid body is pressed up against yours, his hand at the small of your back sliding up to hold you closer to him, your own hand gripping his shoulder, steadying yourself as you feel like melting into his touch.  

He’s still swaying the two of you gently, your lips moving slowly together, tasting the chocolate on each other's tongues. Heat is creeping through your body, wrapping around you, as you feel him tighten his hold on you, his breath skating over your lips as he exhales, a quiet groan leaving his throat. 

“You taste so sweet, even sweeter than the dessert,” he mumbles, his mouth close to yours, “I never want to stop kissing you.” 

You stand on your tiptoes to reach more of him, your hand around his neck, and part your lips for him, letting his tongue lick into your mouth with more fervor. He also tastes sweet and the way he pulls you closer as you steady yourself against his chest makes you moan under his increasingly heated kisses. He’s not swaying you anymore, instead he lets you melt into his body, his arm holding you up, as he bends his head, another groan slipping from him as he feels your tongue slip around his own. 

Marcus’s kisses make you forget the time, where you are, and not until he pulls away with a sigh, do you open your eyes and look up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust, and it’s mirrored in the way his body feels against yours, his arousal a clear presence between you. And you can feel your own fill your core with heat, a slow shiver as you touch upon the thought of having him even closer. 

Marcus keeps his eyes locked on you, his warm hand gently stroking your cheek as he seems to take a deep breath, composing himself. Your fingers are still toying with the impossibly soft curls at the back of his neck, letting them slip through your fingers, and you feel like you might drown in his dark brown eyes if he doesn’t release you soon. 

“Is it too soon to ask for a second date tomorrow?” he whispers, his eyes dropping down to your lips again, and then back to your eyes as you shake your head. 

“No, tomorrow sounds like a very good idea,” you mumble, slightly hazy from the way his hands never stop touching you, warming your body and sending shivers to your core. 

“Ok,” he mumbles back, “can I kiss you again?” 

“If you do, we might not get out of here tonight, Marcus,” you smile at him and he chuckles, nodding and pulling back a little. 

“You’re very right, maybe it’s best to save more kisses for tomorrow.” 

“I look forward to them though,” you say, letting your fingers slip from his hair and down over his shoulder, caressing his arm, his wrist, and finally his hand. He takes your hand then, enveloping it in his larger one,  and brings it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“Tomorrow then,” he smiles. 

Part Eight

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

[pbs-theundeadmaggot]

A little Bucky request, if you'd be so kind 🥰 I'm thinking maybe neighbour!reader (but I'm not fussy!) and they leave little secret admirer valentine's gifts for Bucky as he always seems so lonely when they see him 💔

Winter

Bucky Barnes x gn!reader

[a/n] thanks you so much for this request! I wont lie it's been so long since I've written I found it a little bit difficult to fulfil this request however, that was the point of Valn-Cries so here we go. also side note I didn't know if you wanted fem!reader so I made them gn! hope you don't mind.

Valen-Cries masterlist available here!

Winter wasn’t just a season, it was a state of mind. It was the cold and bitter breeze of doubt that crept in at any waking moment. It was the raging storm that destroyed everything in sight, leaving nothing behind but memories of what once was and could’ve been. 

Winter lived through the sticky heat of summer like a bug bite that wouldn’t go away. In the spring it blossomed like a forbidden fruit, waiting and praying to release its venom. In the Autumn it was the stains at the bottom of your coffee cup, no amount of scrubbing or detergent could get rid of it. 

Winter was everlasting and nothing could slow it down. 

Or at least thats what he thought until he saw you

Bucky had first met you on an unassuming Tuesday evening. He’d received word that Bruce wanted to use him as the subject for his newest experiment so in Bucky fashion before listening to anything else, he’d stormed off towards the lab, ready to tear into the green giant for thinking he could treat him like another lab rat. 

Profanities spilled from his lips as he entered the room, only to be stunned into silence once he saw you sitting there, all pretty and tiny like an angel in contrast to the heavy machinery that laid scattered around the lab. Clearly flustered you’d stuttered out a jumble of words, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes as you waited for his response. Yet whatever you’d said clearly fell on deaf ears as he simply turned around and stormed back out 

Half way up the hall he’d paused, needing a moment to catch his breath as regret coursed through his veins. He hadn’t meant to come across as rude but just being in your presence had knocked the air right out of his lungs, suffocating him in the most delicious way. He could already imagine how gentle your touch was, the way you’d plant soft kisses across his cheeks before whispering sweet affirmations into his ears.

His daydreams however, were embarrassingly cut short as the stiff material of his jeans grew tight, a distant but familiar feeling of arousal building up as he quickly rid the thought of you from his mind. Both disgusted and intrigued that his confusing feelings awoke this primal need in him, a feeling he hadn’t felt in decades. 

It was a feeling, among other things he couldn’t afford to acknowledge. It was so much simpler to feel nothing than everything. After all he’d been through he’d worked his way to a place of peace about himself, the world around him and his past, these feelings would only complicate and ruin him again. Therefore, they didn’t exist. 

But of course that was easier said than done.

With Valentines approaching he couldn’t help but feel somewhat dejected, knowing that before your arrival he never would’ve bothered with such a trivial holiday, but now it was all he could think about. Questions and doubt clouding his vision, wondering who the special person in your life was. Was he rich and handsome like Tony? Or maybe he was goofy and clumsy like Sam. Did he shower you with affection? Or maybe he took you for granted. Either way it tortured him to think it could never be him, no matter how much he wished it would.

—-

In the passing months that you’d joined the team, you’d seen Bucky grow colder and quieter in your presence. His usually devastatingly beautiful baby blue eyes and boyish grin had become hollow and lifeless. With each small interaction he’d curled into himself and run away, as if disgusted by you. 

It was difficult not to take it personally, especially since you were so enamoured with him yet you persevered hoping he would soon warm up to you. Although, this was to no avail. You figured if he hated you he could love the illusion. 

This became a favourite past time of yours, leaving behind crumbs of your devotion in the form of unlimited snacks and mystery deliveries. Watching from afar as the usual scowl that graced his face morphed into a faint smile. This was enough to satisfy you for a while yet you began to think bigger.

Valentines was a mere couple weeks away and you’d decided to bite the bullet and admit to Bucky that it was you admiring him in secret. The worst case scenario was that things would stay exactly as they were, there would be no need to interact with him and in the off chance you did, you knew how to be civil. While the best case was he didn’t hate you quite as much, perhaps you could even be friends if not lovers, anything but this weird limbo of emptiness was an improvement.

—-

Bucky had woken up to a knock a quiet knock at his door, unsure if he was hearing correct but getting up and answering anyway. He was met with an empty hallway, ready to simply slam the door shut until his eyes landed on the note taped to his door. It was decorated with a little sticker in the left corner saying ‘even winter has its sunny days’, in any other case he would’ve scoffed at the obnoxious pink of the paper and sappy phrased but a part of him knew this wasn’t just any letter.

Needless to say Bucky realised that winter really did have its sunny days.

 While winter could be cold and unforgiving, it was also the warmth and comfortability of a newly lit fire. Winter was the sickly sweetness of hot cocoa that soothed you in the harshest of storms. Winter was Bucky and you were his Sunshine that showed him what more winter could be.

[thewolvesof1998]

Last Line/Tibet Tuesday

Thanks for all the tags! I'm pretty sure I've been tagged by everyone at this point 😂

I do have something to share, this is from a new WIP (I know, I know, I don't need another WIP but I just couldn't help myself and @eddiediaztho is a bad influence) I'm affectionately calling it The Heatwave Fic and it was inspired by me being stuck in the heatwave in London and being delusional from the heat...

Eddie has many regrets in his life, lying on the floor of the cabin in the middle of a heat wave with his six foot two best friend pressing into his side while they were both trying to stay cool under the pitiful breeze of the ancient ceiling fan had the possibility to be high on that list. He turns his head to be confronted with a tattooed and freckle-covered shoulder, he can’t remember when they decided to strip down to their boxers but at the time it had seemed like a good idea, he wasn’t sure about that now considering this was the third time he’d found himself turning to stare at the miles of bare skin.  “Eddie?”  “Hmm?” He drags his eyes up over collarbones, an Adams apple, a chin that had more stubble than usual, lips that Buck had been nervously chewing on and off for the past three days and up until he finally meets eyes as bright as they are blue. So blue in fact that they somehow made his throat even more parched than it already was, he was truly getting delusional from the heat. “Eddie.” “Buck.” “I’m lying in a pool of my own sweat.” He grimaces, “Gross.”  “Eddddiiiieeee” Buck drags his name out in a whine that sounds an awful lot like Chris or maybe Chris sounds an awful lot like Buck, either way, Eddie finds it endearing as much as it is childish. He’s truly lost his mind.  “We have to save water.” He knows what Buck wants, another shower, but they’ve got a limited supply of water and they don’t know how long this heatwave will last.  Buck rolls over to face him, “But I’m so hot.”  Eddie snorts but his reply dies in his throat as his eyes flicker down to Buck’s chest and the way his pecks are squished together in his new position. He wants to bite them, see if they are just as soft as they look. The inappropriate thought causes his cheeks to warm and he can only hope that it blends in with the heat-induced flush that has been present on both of their faces the past few days.  “Just,” He waves his hand in the air, “think about something else,” he mumbles as he trains his eyes up to the ceiling as if the wooden rafters are the most interesting thing he’s seen in years and swears he’s not going to look at Buck until he’s sure he can control himself.  “Like what?” “I don’t know,” He says as he manages a half-decent shrug while lying flat on his back, finding what looks like faces in the wooden beams.  “What are you thinking about?” Buck asks, his voice is low and a little throaty and Eddie blames the lack of sleep for the goosebumps that rise on his arms. Because Buck’s probably just got a dry throat from the heat and here Eddie is lying sexualising his best friend, like a fucking creep. 

And the last line which is a continuation of the above tibet:

Eddie clears his throat, “Uh, that looks like a dog,” He points up to one of the particular doggish faces in the grain of the wooden beams like they’re cloud-watching because he is sure as hell not going to say ‘Oh I was wondering if you would sound like that after I fucked your brains out’. 

Tagging everyone because I honestly don't have the energy to figure out who's already tagged me and who hasn't sooo....

@wikiangela​​ @wildlife4life​ ​ @alyxmastershipper​ @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33​ @bekkachaos @buddierights @forthewolves @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @eddiediaztho @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @fortheloveofbuddie @sammy-souffle @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherluciferr @cowboy-buddie @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg

[destiis-wayfarers]

Fratricide? Must be a Tuesday

A little piece of Kailis' backstory, written for Wayfarer's (@idrellegames) 3rd birthday

Fandom: Wayfarer - Idrelle Games

Tags/TWs: Angst, Child Abuse, Sibling Rivalry, Childhood Trauma, Heights

Read on AO3

Fratricide? Must be a Tuesday

The wind was strong up here, rushing past Kailis' back and tugging at his clothes. His long hair flew around him wildly, whipping at his face, the tips catching in his mouth. Kailis clung to the stones, fingertips seeking the gaps between rock and mortar as he hauled himself up toward the summit. His limbs shook and every time he tried to breathe in, the cold air pierced his lungs.

This was the highest he'd ever climbed, ever dared to climb. The tower stretched on above him, the courtyard below, the rooftop of the main house between. His siblings stood in the courtyard, their comments and jeers that had initially spurred him on now snatched away by the wind. His heart beat like a bird's, blood rushing through his veins and reminding him that he was really, truly alive. 

He could see the city stretching out before him, the red-tiled roofs and whitewashed buildings clustered together like adults whispering in corners, the twisting spaces between them like leylines to be explored. To his right, the city gave way to mountains in the distance, snow-capped and colossal. To his left, there was nothing but ocean, stretching out forever. Only the bravest ships were dancing on the rough winter waves. His father's fleet would be out there, somewhere, but Kailis couldn't spot any of their blue sails. 

Kailis reached up for the next stone that jutted out just a little farther than the rest. His fingers felt frozen and numb, barely able to catch the edge of the rough stone and dig in to haul himself up another inch. 

"Master Marcello, please come down!" a panicked servant called from below him. Kailis glanced down and saw her clutching the edge of the window that he'd just broken. He'd felt the wards bend and snap as he climbed through, shattering into a thousand fractals that scattered in the wind. 

He also saw how far he'd climbed, the rooftop many feet below. He pressed his forehead to the stones, closing his eyes against the distance and his head against the possible consequences of his choices. With shaking muscles and shuddering breath, he looked up again and let go of one stone to seek another. The wind screamed in his ears, whistling through the small gap between his body and the tower's wall, buffeting him against it as though it sought to rip him off and strike him down. 

Accompanied by a little popping sound and whisps of golden magic, his elder brother suddenly appeared above him, sitting casually on the roof of the tower and kicking his feet out into the breeze. His blood-red hair surrounded him like an ominous halo as he sneered down at Kailis.

"Doesn't look like you're going to make it, runt!" Kriton yelled, the golden glow in his eyes slowly fading as he released his spatial magic. 

"Master Marcello!" the servant cried out again, her voice raising in pitch and desperation. Kailis wasn't sure if she was addressing him or his brother, but it didn't matter; they both ignored her.

"I... Can... Do it!" Kailis called back between gasps. 

He definitely couldn't do it. He was pretty certain of that now. 

His body was both on fire and frozen in place. His muscles were locking up and every time he tried to reach out for the next stone or dragged his leg up to find a new foothold, he gasped in pain. He realised with a shock that his fingertips were bleeding, the blood soaking into the porous stone and leaving little stains when he let go. That same blood rushed through his head, each heartbeat felt like a pounding drum on the inside of his skull. Tol Covere wobbled to his right, the buildings becoming as fluid as the ocean.

"Give it up, brat," Kriton said, his voice not as strained now that Kailis had closed the gap between them. He leaned over the edge to look at Kailis, silken clothes rippling against the gale that beat at them. "What do you think you're going to prove?" he asked with a smirk. 

Kailis stared up at him through half-closed eyes, swallowing hard against a raw throat. He wanted to prove them wrong. Prove to them that he could do it. That he didn't need magic to do anything. But he knew how stupid that was. He knew how the world worked, he'd travelled it enough. No one cared about magianis. No one cared about him .

" Please , Master Marcello!" the servant wailed up at them, her voice haunting as the winds snatched it away, "bring the child back safely!" She sounded sick with worry. But the fear wasn't for Kailis; it was for what his father would do if he found out she'd failed in her duty. 

"Don't worry, I'll send him down to you," Kriton yelled back, a vicious grin on his face as he looked at Kailis. 

"Wait..." Kailis gasped, scrambling against stone, and scraping his arms as he rushed to reach the roof. Kriton's grin turned into a laugh as he watched Kailis struggle. Leisurely, he lifted his leg, his eyes pooling with gold magic as he prepared to teleport safely to the ground.

"Wait wait wait!" Kailis screamed, panic gripping his chest and squeezing so tight he felt like his ribs might break. The golden mist swirled around Kriton as his foot came down and connected with Kailis' shoulder, slamming into him as only the force of a grown adult kicking a child could achieve. 

Kailis felt himself shudder at the impact as he reached out in desperation, clawing at stone, at air, at Kriton's boot. 

And gripping. 

He tumbled backwards, the world rushing from stone wall and Kriton's sneering face to brilliant blue sky and gulls screeching overhead. 

And then Kriton came with him, yanked forward by Kailis' weight suddenly clutched onto his leg like an anchor.

There was a yelp and a curse and hands in his hair and on his face yanking, pulling, shoving. Kailis crushed his eyes closed, holding onto his brother as tight as he could. Someone screamed from below, the sound sharpening and then cutting off as they plummeted passed the source. 

And then they slammed into the rooftop, Kailis folding in on himself like a sack of vegetables. 

Kailis' body bounced and the siblings came undone, disconnected but still a tangle of limbs and bodies smashing into one another as they tumbled down the roof. The world was a blur, flashes of red tile and stone wall and blue sky and dead trees and pink hair and purple skin and whisps of gold magic that blinked in and out of existence. 

And then Kailis was in freefall again, for just a second, before his back slammed into the courtyard below and everything went dark. 

Kriton stood rigid in their father's study. His hands were pinned to his sides and he stared forward like a Brightblade on parade. Unlike Kailis, he looked little more than windswept, his broken arm and minor injuries having been healed only moments ago. Kailis, in comparison,  stood beside him like a war victim. He was covered in dirt and welting cuts and was swaying a little on his feet. His was face scraped and raw from hitting the roof, his head pounded each time he moved, and there was a pain deep in his spine that wouldn't shift. He'd only passed out for a few minutes, according to the servant, but he felt like he was falling forward, ever forward into darkness.

"You foolish boy," their father spat at Kriton, who stood so statuesque, "you would leave me without an appropriate heir?" he demanded, eyes glowing red with power. Kriton made some small noises, somewhere between a mewling whine and a groan, but his lips remained firmly closed. Their father wasn't interested in hearing him just yet. Kailis' head throbbed and he could feel something tickling the back of his neck, travelling down until it met his shirt. 

Kriton is not a boy , Kailis thought dully. He was a man, even if full-blooded melusine grew slowly. His foot was big and it had stamped into Kailis' shoulder and if Kriton was still a boy he probably would have been okay. Kailis picked at the blood crusted under his nails. 

"You might be a skilled planeswalker, but you're apparently wholly incapable of using your head!" their father exclaimed, pacing out from behind the desk to stand in front of them both. Kailis let his hands fall back to his sides. He might be immune to his father's magic, but that didn't mean he was allowed to move. 

"And you!" their father's ire turned to Kailis and Kriton visibly relaxed, shoulders slumping forward and a gasp of air escaping him. "What were you doing up there? More than breaking my house's wards I hope?" his father asked, standing in front of Kailis and towering over him. Kailis didn't look up.

"He dared me," he said, focusing all his attention on staying upright. The floor seemed to undulate beneath him like a giant serpent.

"And you simply did it?" his father asked incredulously, "are you a dog?"

"No..." Kailis mumbled, gripping the bottom of his shirt and tensing his muscles against the pain that lanced down his spine, "I wanted to prove I could do it."

"And, yet, you obviously could not," his father replied with derision.

"I could!" Kailis yelled, head snapping up to look at his father who scowled down at him from a great height, face like thunder and body an immovable mountain. "If he hadn't kicked me, I would have made it!" He protested, shoving at Kriton's side weakly and doing little more than making him rock onto his heels. 

"It's not my fault you're weak!" Kriton snapped back, grabbing Kailis by the hair and yanking him up onto his toes. Kailis tried not to cry out as the pain erupted at the back of his head, but his vision blurred with tears as he struggled in his brother's grasp.

"Enough," their father said calmly and Kriton released him, shoving him down to fall onto his knees. Kailis stared at the floor, fighting through nausea and pain that crashed down on him like waves. The tears fell one at a time, splattering on the hardwood and landing on the back of his hands. 

"Get up," his father's voice cut in across the whoosh of blood in his ears. Kailis wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and pushed himself up onto shaking legs, stumbling once as the world threatened to go dark again. 

"I will not suffer fools," his father said, arms crossed as he glanced between them both. Kriton stared forehead, face impassive. "Kriton, you will train your brother." 

"Father..." Kriton began, taking a half-step forward, panic creeping into his voice. Their father held up a hand, eyes flooding with magic, and Kriton stopped in place, frozen in the binds that held him.

"If you prove too much a fool to run my empire once I am gone, I will have contingencies. You will train your brother as I trained you." Their father said, releasing Kriton with a flick of his hand. 

"I don't want to run the company..." Kailis muttered, as though anyone would care what he wanted. 

The blow came fast and with force. His father's hand connected with his face and Kailis was flung sideways. He threw his hands out to catch himself but the ground caught him first, his cheek breaking his fall and his skull bouncing off the hardwood floor.

"Pathetic," his father muttered from above him as his vision sank once more to black.

[snarkys-malarky]

So here is my TECH TUESDAY offering! May the fic gods be kind!

Remembrances

For all yall who needed this as much as I did. Since I am just learning to work this thing called tumblr, I can only hope my links work as intended.

So, to set the tone for the story, play Honor Him then Now We Are Free.

It was a beautiful day on Pabu. Most days were but, as Hunter stood at the doorway of the small dwelling he and Wrecker had been staying in for the past two days, it seemed especially so. He had stood there, watching as the sun came up over the water, bringing with it a cool, fresh breeze that played thru the abundant plantlife on the island and created a scented swirl of air that danced thru the streets and windows and doorways of the city. Hunter breathed it in, trying to let it ease the ache in his heart.

Today was the day.

He heard a noise overhead and looked up to see a ship coming across the water. He was sure it was Rex. Echo had elected to stay on the Marauder so Hunter decided to let him be the one to greet the captain. He turned and shuffled inside to put his caf cup in the cleansing unit and saw Wrecker quietly eating at the table. He looked up at him when he came in but quickly looked down again. Hunter could see the sadness on his face.

He could feel it on his own as well.

Today was not going to be easy….but Phee and Shep had convinced them it was necessary.

Hunter sighed before turning from the cleaning unit to his brother, “I’m gonna go ahead and get ready. Do you need the fresher?”

Wrecker didn’t speak but shook his head.

“Ok. Do you want to walk up together to meet everyone?”

Wrecker nodded.

Hunter sighed again.

“Alright. It won’t take me long.”

Another nod as Hunter turned to get cleaned up.

15 minutes later saw him standing near his bed, staring at the clothing Phee had given him the day before. When she and Shep had explained their customs and traditions, he and Wrecker had both agreed it sounds nice. They had, at one time, had hopes of making this place their home. It made sense to follow their customs as well. He reached out and took the soft, breezy material in hand before slipping the pants and then the top on. It felt… strange, to wear something so loose and lightweight. Almost like not wearing clothing at all. It was a little disconcerting but he had dealt with worse so pushed it out of his mind as he pushed his feet into the shoes she had given him as well. Open at the toe and heels, he had seen the style being worn by many of the island’s inhabitants.

It still felt uncomfortable.

He stepped out of his room and saw Wrecker, dressed in similar fashion, waiting for him near the door.

They didn’t speak but stepped outside and began to make their way up to the top of the island. As they stepped onto the broad plaza that encompassed the entire top portion of the island, Hunter turned to look out toward the water. The sight that met his eyes almost had him in tears.

Winding its way up the mountain was a river of white. Hunter heard a sniff and turned to see Wrecker wiping his eyes beside him. Hunter turned away sharply lest the sight of his brother’s tears break his loose as well.

“Hunter!” he heard the hail and turned to see Phee walking his way. She was dressed similarly to them in all white, right to the wrap around her head. The filmy dress she wore swayed with the breeze and her movements and Hunter was struck once more with how beautiful she really was. It made his heart hurt anew to think of the times he and his other brothers had teased Tech over it. They had all voiced their curiosity to each other privately over whether the two would ever actually get together, Echo and Wrecker seeming unsure if Tech was as interested in her as she was him.

Hunter could have told them. He could have told them how Tech’s heartbeat sped up whenever she was near. How his temperature increased a couple degrees as well. How the scent of pheromones was thick in the air whenever they were together.

He saw the pain in her eyes now and mourned for the both of them what would never get the chance to be.

“We are ready whenever you two are.” She said softly.

Hunter nodded and looked around for Echo. He saw him, also dressed in white, standing on the far side of the plaza next to the ship Hunter had seen flying in that morning. Hunter had a fleeting thought about how odd is was to see his brothers dressed in anything but armor. He and Wrecker made their way over to greet their brother and the clone captain. He clasped arms with Rex.

“Hunter. I am so sorry to hear what happened to Tech and Omega. Just know I and my group will do everything in our power to help you find her,” Rex stated earnestly.

Hunter nodded nearly bursting into tears when Rex clasped his neck and brought his forehead to his. Hunter had only ever seen the regs Keldabe each other, never had any of them offered such a brotherly embrace to any of his batch. To experience it now was… intense, speaking better than words Rex’s intentions and sorrow for them. He repeated the gesture for Wrecker and looked a bit stunned when the big clone started crying again after he turned him loose.

Shep and Phee, with Lyana trailing behind them like a sad, little shadow, came to the group.

“It’s time,” Shep said simply.

Hunter turned to follow him and was brought up short by the sight that met his eyes. The entire plaza was packed. It was an undulating ocean of white.

It must be every resident of Pabu. He thought in stunned amazement. He came back to himself when he felt a small hand take his and looked down to see Lyana had taken both his and Wrecker’s hands and was pulling them to where her father and aunt stood under the giant tree. A small dais had been set up and Shep and Phee stood on it now.

Shep’s booming voice carried easily over the quiet crowd.

“People of Pabu. We have gathered this day to remember and honor a fallen brother, a fallen friend. Many of you may not have had the chance to know him, but we can all of us be grateful for his presence among us, even for as short a time as it was. When the Great Wave came, it was he and my sister who were able to drop the ladders and ensure all of us reached safety. Keeping others safe was something he was good at. As a solider of the army of the Republic, he helped many, many beings and worlds to remain safe. As a brother, it was how he left this galaxy, ensuring the safety of his family by giving his own life to ensure theirs could continue.”

Hunter choked on a breath as tears streamed down his face. He could hear Wrecker sobbing unashamedly beside him. Shep continued speaking and Hunter struggled to hear everything he said.

“As we remember Tech’s life and light the Flame of Remembrance, let us give thanks for all that he was and be comforted in the knowledge that nothing lasts forever and nothing truly ends, for that is the essence of Life and the Force.”

Shep stepped back and Hunter wiped at his eyes to see a pillar with a large metallic bowl atop it. Shep did something he couldn’t see but suddenly, a blaze of flame shot up from the bowl.

Shep spoke again, “We speak the name of the fallen to remember. We speak the name of the departed so that they will always be with us. We speak the name of Tech.”

The entire assembly then echoed his words.

Then, a loud, ululating cry was heard and he was shocked when he turned to see it was Phee who was making the sound. The cry was taken up by several others throughout the crowd before a deep, powerful, ringing bong echoed over the assembly from the top of the high tower of the Archium.

As the reverberation of that booming tone began to fade, Phee began to sing.

It was no language Hunter knew but it was haunting in its sadness and simplicity and the power and feeling in her voice. Almost immediately, the song was taken up by others until the entire assembly was singing.

Hunter had never encountered anything so utterly, emotionally wrenching in his life. He turned toward those standing with him to see Echo, wrapped around Rex, crying like he was dying and the stalwart clone captain’s eyes flooded with tears as well. Wrecker was kneeling on the ground beside him, a large bandana in his hand that Hunter had no idea where came from, eyes nearly swollen shut from weeping. Hunter stepped forward and wrapped his arm around his brother and immediately, Wrecker turned and wrapped himself around him and Hunter broke, wrapping himself in turn around his brother as they laid their heads together and mourned for all they had lost. Hunter mourned for Tech and for Crosshair, who should have been there with them to grieve his twin.

For Omega, who must face her own grief alone.

For the peace that had so very nearly been theirs to share in this beautiful place.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, lost in their grief but the crowd was beginning to disperse when he felt a hand on his arm. He raised his swollen eyes to see Phee standing beside him. He reached out and pulled her surprised but unresisting form to him. He hugged her fiercely, this beautiful woman who, perhaps in another life, could have become a sister. She hugged him back hard. 

“You sing amazingly.” He rasped.

She pulled back and smiled, the tears in her eyes only making them more luminous.

“It’s an old song of our people. We sang it when our people were scattered. We sang it when our planet was destroyed and we sing it now for every loss we suffer. Not really sure what it means anymore since the language’s meaning has been lost but we keep it alive, and our culture, by singing it and remembering this way.”

“It’s a beautiful song and a beautiful tradition.” Echo’s deep tones were raspy now with grief but as he stepped up to join them, along with Rex, Hunter couldn’t help but agree.

“Do you think you could teach it to us?” Wrecker asked as he finally managed to dry his eyes and come to stand with them.

Phee smiled at him, “Whadda you think, big guy? If you wanna learn, I can teach!” she said with an echo of her usual pep.

Wrecker’s smile was wobbly but genuine, “I’d like to learn.”

“I would as well,” Rex unexpectedly added. “As clones, we have few death customs of our own. The remembrances we say for our fallen brothers is quite similar to the one your people spoke. Most of the culture we have, we formed for ourselves or borrowed from our Mandolorian trainers. It is ours by right of our Prime being Mandolorian but it would be nice to incorporate some other things. Keeping your culture alive by singing your song seems like a worthy import.” He offered hesitantly.

Phee gave him a brilliant smile, “I would love for a part of my people to be part of yours.”

Rex smiled back just as brightly. It was rare to find such acceptance among nat-borns. Seeing the way they had honored his fallen brother had touched him deeply. He couldn’t help wishing that all his brothers who were marching ahead had been granted such honor and remembrance by the ones they had died fighting to protect. He was hoping for a chance to get to check this place out a bit before he had to leave. Perhaps it would be a good place to send brothers who were too broken to fight any longer.

“We should start walking down,” Phee said, “There is always a large meal to follow remembrance services. It should be set up by now.”

It broke her heart a little bit more to see how the men surrounding her seemed so shocked and grateful to have their departed and their own grief acknowledged in this way. She fought to hide her indignation for them. All of them were some of the most decent beings she had ever met and it hurt to think that they and the millions just like them had been taken for granted and dismissed as unimportant in the way that they had.

Not even given the dignity of remembrance by anyone other than their own brothers if what she was reading here was correct.

She swallowed down her ire though. This was not the time or place.

Now was for remembering. Now was for sharing those remembrances so the ones departed would not be forgotten but live on in the stories and hearts and minds of those who knew them and who heard and shared in the stories about them.

She began to lead them to the stairs.

“Did I ever tell you all about the time Tech tried to convince me to take him riot racing?”

A chorus of questions and exclamations followed her down the stairs as she smiled and began to talk.

[theodoradevlin]

It is the day of the Easter Egg Hunt. Theodora and Richard agreed to participate in the competition together since the event had to take part on Tuesday, the day before some students usually start to pack up and leave for the spring holidays.

Richard is still wearing the uniform that Felix so graciously provided him with all those months ago. But Theodora? Theodora...

Her dress carries the breeze of rebirth, a sweet spring fragrance of change every time she flies past him in an excited flurry. The flower crown on her head threatens to fall down every time she dives for the eggs she spots. There are blooms in her hair as well, and Richard feels as if he is following in the footsteps of the forest fairy: the visible flower trail is left in her wake.

Richard cannot focus on searching for the brightly coloured eggs and instead follows Theodora like a devoted puppy. He is carrying her dancing shoes as she seems to enjoy the feeling of grass beneath her feet, especially now after they've spent some time dancing at the festivities.

The basket in his free hand gets heavier and heavier but Richard doesn't mind. Theodora's "I got one more!", and "Look at how cute the pattern is!", and "We are sure to win this one!" fills him with happiness and he can't help but admire his spring fairy every step of the way.

How many eggs did the house elves manage to hide out here? Theo remarked to herself that they had truly outdid themselves again as she placed another in her already tipping basket. She looks back to give Richard a grin, her competitive side was coming out and she was determined to find as many as possible. 

She sprinted out so fast in the beginning that she had basically sprinted out of her shoes… Richard, being the gentleman he was, had picked them up for her. And thank Merlin for him, or she would have forgotten them. 

When she looks up, she happens to catch Richard’s gaze, noting his face sporting a merry flush with a smile so endearing she can’t help but to return it. 

She adjusts the flower crown on her head, the blasted thing kept getting in her eyes, but Richard seemed to admire it and just that alone eliminated any feelings of silliness she had over it. ….Though, she should have made one for him as well. Pursing her lips she gets an idea as he calls her over. 

“Look how cute the pattern is!” 

Theo rushes over to inspect his discovery, she cups her hands under Richard's to look at his prize closer. She admires the swirls of the pastel patterns, the colors whirling together like sky on the spring day with notes of light blue, lavender, white, and yellow.  

“The pattern is cute!” She beams back up at him, before taking her hands to her flower crown and placing it on top of Richard’s curls instead, smirking. “But I think I found something cuter.” She admires her work before stepping back, satisfied. “There! I officially declare you the winner, at least in my books. King of the Easter Eggs.” 

She laughs again, before giving the King of the Easter Eggs a mock curtsy.

[dakogutin]

DAY11 of @dzaddyjamespotter‘s advent calendar prompts:

FAMILY

(read my other christmas drabbles here!)

tag: fake/pretend relationship

This should definitely put an end to his parents’ endless teasing and meddlesome questions, Remus thought triumphantly. He couldn’t deny the nerves, though, that part was real at least. Lying to his parents still filled him with unease.

“He’s my boyfriend. Yeah. You’ve already met him– known him for years so… I don’t think we need any more introductions other than that.”

Sirius chimed in with a charmingly ‘modest’ smile– the one that was typically reserved for their teachers back when he would attempt to flirt his way out of detention.

The way his parents’ expressions gave way to utter surprise was priceless. Remus was perfectly confident that nothing would give his scheme away. Any conniving smile or little quirks of amusement he displayed could only be received as nothing but nervousness.

What he didn’t expect was for tears to be held at bay.

His mother had hugged him tight. His father had told them he was ‘really’ happy for them both.

He and Sirius thanked them back, and began counting the seconds until they were left alone in the privacy of Remus’ room.

But they never did get that chance, as they had arrived on the day of the neighbourhood Christmas party– an event Remus and Sirius expected to happen a day later. They were welcomed by Remus’ old neighbours. All were more eager to meet the person who newly entered the picture.

This wasn’t supposed to cause this much of a stir.

But Sirius? He submitted himself to the role like he was simply fitting a new coat on a Tuesday.

Remus had always known crowds and gatherings were second nature to Sirius. He was used to attention and presenting himself a certain way. Perhaps it’s exactly what they needed as Remus kept to himself the entire time, more reserved than usual, growing more and more uneasy with the whole ordeal.

He managed to find comfort with having Sirius by his side at all times. Every movement Sirius made, Remus was acutely aware. It didn’t help that it was the first time he’s seen Sirius in such a polished fit (respectable enough for parental approval– as he had said). Their hands brushed, his perfume breezed through Remus’ every breath, and he did all the talking. He asked every person they spoke to how they knew Remus. He asked how Remus was as a child, how he was as an adult, how he was when he’d return after a long time, who his friends were, whether Remus talked about past partners…

Only when the latter question was asked did Remus intervene. 

He cleared his throat. “Sirius.”

Sirius glanced at him. “Oh, don’t worry, my love. Nothing that wouldn’t surprise me, I’m sure.” He settled a hand on the small of Remus’ back and pulled him close for a murmur. Remus was stuck staring at Sirius’ lips.  “And you can’t blame me for being so curious.”

It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

“You think you can just bat your eyelashes at me and I’ll let you do anything.” 

Sirius’ smirk turned into a pout.

Remus kissed his stupid pout away. “You’re lucky I love you.”

He can play this game. Nevermind how good it felt, how right it was to reciprocate Sirius’ touches and flirt back.

Remus felt himself relax since then. Surprisingly, Sirius, too. He realised only now, seeing the difference. Sirius was smiling and laughing more, and it was the natural kind. His eyes would crinkle in the corners and he would throw his head back, letting out a barking note.

None of this had to mean anything, Remus knew that. No doubt Sirius, too, which was how he got into this role so easily. But Remus also knew he didn’t have to keep thinking about it, and instead enjoy himself as much as Sirius definitely was.

“You two are adorable,” said one of Remus’ childhood friends.

“Who knew Remus Lupin was a romantic,” said another.

“Oh, my darling. I’ve never seen you look this happy.”

They now found themselves before Hope and Lyall Lupin once again.

Remus simply pulled Sirius closer by the waist and hid his smile (and rising blush) by pressing his lips on Sirius’ temple. 

“And you, too, Sirius,” Hope added, her fond smile unwavering. “I hope you boys know, especially you, Remus, that it wasn’t our intention to make you rush things–”

“Oh, no, please,” Remus began. It’s entirely what he aimed to hear from them, but it just felt wrong now. As his arm retreated, Sirius reached for his hand so they remained linked together.

“We get carried away, that’s all,” Hope pressed on, voice still apologetic. “I mean I always felt there was something between you two.”

Sirius’ thumb that had been rubbing circles, stopped.

“What your mother is trying to say is that it really means a lot that you two finally decided to share this with us. Don’t forget you always have a place with us, Sirius.”

“Oh… Thank you.”

At the tremor in Sirius’ voice, Remus snapped his gaze to his side. And again, Sirius may have his parents fooled for his composure, but Remus knew better. 

Without thinking much about it, Remus stared right into Sirius’ eyes as he said, “They’re right, Sirius. And it would make me the happiest if you spent every Christmas with us from now on.”

Sirius let out a weak chuckle. “Are you… Really?”

They were speaking a language only the other understood. “Yeah,” Remus smiled wryly, and took a deep breath for his next words. “I was never pretending with you.” Suddenly he felt scared. There was no turning back now. 

But Sirius only glowed with mirth. “You love me, Remus Lupin?” he grinned.

“For the longest time, Sirius Black.”

[newstfionline]

Friday, September 6, 2024

Canadian PM Trudeau weakened after main ally unexpectedly pulls support (Reuters) Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau suffered an unexpected blow on Wednesday when the small party helping keep his minority Liberal government in power withdrew its automatic support, forcing him to attempt new alliances to govern. The move leaves Trudeau reliant on support from other opposition lawmakers to survive confidence votes in the lower chamber of parliament at a time when polls show he will lose badly if an election were held now. An election must be held by the end of October 2025 under Canadian law. Trudeau, 52, first took office in November 2015 but has over the last two years struggled to fend off attacks from the opposition center-right Conservatives, who blame him for high inflation and a housing crisis.

Americans who have a job are feeling secure. Not so for many who are looking for one (AP) Laid off by the music streaming service Spotify last year, Joovay Arias figured he’d land another job as a software engineer fairly soon. His previous job search, in 2019, had been a breeze. “Back then,” he said, “I had tons of recruiters reaching out to me—to the point where I had to turn them down.” Arias did find another job recently, but only after an unexpected ordeal. “I thought it was going to be something like three months,” said Arias, 39. “It turned into a year and three months.” As Arias and other jobseekers can attest, the American labor market, red-hot for the past few years, has cooled. The job market is now in an unusual place: Jobholders are mostly secure, with layoffs low, historically speaking. Yet the pace of hiring has slowed, and landing a job has become harder. “If you have a job and you’re happy with that job and you want to hold onto that job, things are pretty good right now,” said Nick Bunker, economic research director for North America at the Indeed Hiring Lab. “But if you’re out of work or you have a job and you want to switch to a new one, things aren’t as rosy as they were a couple of years ago.”

Colombian truckers block highways in main cities in protest over increases in fuel prices (AP) Thousands of Colombians were forced to walk to work on Tuesday, as truckers in major cities blocked highways to protest a recent increase in the price of diesel fuel. Truckers unions have said that plans by the government to eliminate diesel fuel subsidies would push their businesses to the brink of bankruptcy, while the administration of left-wing President Gustavo Petro argues it must phase out subsidies to cut a growing budget deficit and direct more funds to education and health. On Saturday, the government raised the price of diesel fuel to around $2.90 per gallon, an increase of 50 cents. In response, the unions have been holding protests around the country, which intensified on Tuesday, with roadblocks in the cities of Bogotá, Medellin and Cali, that have diminished the amount of food arriving at wholesale markets.

Spanish singles found a new dating strategy. It’s in the fruit aisle. (Washington Post) Bored of swiping on apps, some single people in Spain have found an analogue method of finding romance: going to a popular grocery store at 7 p.m. and positioning an exotic fruit in their trolley cart. “If you want to date, you just go Mercadona, the supermarket, grab a pineapple and put it upside down in your cart,��� said Damon Fan, a 24-year-old entrepreneur and content creator living in Barcelona. “If you find someone you like, and they happen to have their pineapple, you can start to talk,” he explained in a phone interview Wednesday. The method, which spread on TikTok, has led to dozens of Spanish singletons recording their experiences on the app—some with more apparent success than others. It is also the latest sign of a global turn against dating apps, driven by swipe-fatigue and many reporting that they are finding online dating increasingly fruitless. In an email Wednesday, Mercadona confirmed that the trend was happening in its stores, but stressed that it was not part of any marketing strategy. (Overall pineapple sales were also normal for this time of this year, it added.)

The world is pumping out 57 million tons of plastic pollution a year (AP) The world creates 57 million tons of plastic pollution every year and spreads it from the deepest oceans to the highest mountaintop to the inside of people’s bodies, according to a new study that also said more than two-thirds of it comes from the Global South. It’s enough pollution each year—about 52 million metric tons—to fill New York City’s Central Park with plastic waste as high as the Empire State Building, according to researchers at the University of Leeds in the United Kingdom. They examined waste produced on the local level at more than 50,000 cities and towns across the world for a study in Wednesday’s journal Nature. The study examined plastic that goes into the open environment, not plastic that goes into landfills or is properly burned. For 15% of the world’s population, government fails to collect and dispose of waste, the study’s authors said—a big reason Southeast Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa produce the most plastic waste. That includes 255 million people in India, the study said.

Chinese families seeking to escape a competitive education system have found a haven in Thailand (AP) The competition started in second grade for DJ Wang’s son. Eight-year-old William was enrolled at a top elementary school in Wuhan, a provincial capital in central China. While kindergarten and first grade were relatively carefree, the homework assignments started piling up in second grade. By third grade, his son was regularly finishing his day around midnight. Wang, who traveled often to Chiang Mai in northern Thailand for his job in tourism, decided to make a switch, moving his family to the city that sits at the base of mountains. The family is among a wave of Chinese flocking to Thailand for its quality international schools and more relaxed lifestyle. While there are no records tracking how many are moving abroad for education, they join other Chinese expats leaving the country, from wealthy entrepreneurs moving to Japan to protect their wealth, to activists unhappy with the political system, to young people who want to opt out of China’s ultra-competitive work culture, at least for a while.

For many investors and intellectuals leaving China, it’s Japan—not the US—that’s the bigger draw (AP) One by one, the students, lawyers and others filed into a classroom in a central Tokyo university for a lecture by a Chinese journalist on Taiwan and democracy—taboo topics that can’t be discussed publicly back home in China. “Taiwan’s modern-day democracy took struggle and bloodshed, there’s no question about that,” said Jia Jia, a columnist and guest lecturer at the University of Tokyo who was briefly detained in China eight years ago on suspicion of penning a call for China’s top leader to resign. He is one of tens of thousands of intellectuals, investors and other Chinese who have relocated to Japan in recent years, part of a larger exodus of people from China. Their backgrounds vary widely, and they’re leaving for all sorts of reasons. Chinese migrants are flowing to all corners of the world, from workers seeking to start businesses of their own in Mexico to burned-out students heading to Thailand. Those choosing Japan tend to be well-off or highly educated, drawn to the country’s ease of living, rich culture and immigration policies that favor highly skilled professionals, with less of the sharp anti-immigrant backlash sometimes seen in Western countries. It’s tough to enter the U.S. these days. Tens of thousands of Chinese were arrested at the U.S.-Mexico border over the past year, and Chinese students have been grilled at customs as trade frictions fan suspicions of possible industrial espionage.

Israeli strikes kill 5 in occupied West Bank, Palestinian officials say (AP) Palestinian health officials say Israeli strikes in the occupied West Bank killed five people, including the son of a prominent jailed militant. Israel has been carrying out large-scale raids in the territory over the past week that it says are aimed at dismantling militant groups and preventing attacks. The Palestinians fear a widening of the war in Gaza. The strikes overnight in the northern West Bank town of Tubas killed five people.

Gazans Grapple With Prospect of Israeli Presence Postwar (NYT) Cease-fire talks in Gaza have stalled again, in part over Israel’s demand to retain a military presence in the territory, which Hamas and Egypt oppose. But the view among some Gazans on that point is less clear-cut. Their lives have been devastated after almost a year of war and they say they find the idea of Israeli soldiers staying on—and of the checkpoints becoming permanent—disturbing. But if that helps bring an end to the war, it is a price they are willing to pay. Other Gazans expressed serious misgivings about allowing an Israeli military presence in Gaza, and some opposed it outright. “Of course I do not accept the presence of checkpoints on our return to the north,” said Mohammad Qadoura, 40, who was displaced from his home in Gaza City. “But if this would lead to the end of the war, I would reluctantly agree.”

China’s Xi pledges over $50 billion in financial aid to Africa to deepen ties (CNBC) Chinese leader Xi Jinping announced that he would allocate $50 billion in financing to Africa over the next three years. Xi Jinping also promised to “create at least one million jobs for Africa” and said China “is ready to deepen cooperation with African countries.” The announcement took place at the Forum on China-Africa Cooperation currently happening in Beijing, where more than 50 African leaders are securing agreements regarding industry, natural resources, energy and infrastructure.

Collapse after collapse—why Lagos buildings keep crashing down (BBC) A building has collapsed in Nigeria’s megacity, Lagos, once every two weeks on average so far this year. Whereas the commercial cost can be calculated, a figure can never be put on the value of the lives lost underneath the rubble. The gaps among the buildings, replaced by piles of debris, represent a failure of governance as well as giving rise to allegations of contractors trying to cut corners to save money. There are regulations, there are maintenance schedules, there are inspectors—but the system does not work. Those responsible are never held to account, and so nothing ever changes. Lagos, dubbed by one expert who spoke to the BBC as “the building-collapse capital of Nigeria”, has seen at least 90 buildings falling down in the last 12 years, leaving more than 350 people dead, according to the Council for the Regulation of Engineering in Nigeria.

[danbisroom]

Ep. 26 (Half 52) - We’ll Bask In The Shadow Of Yesterday’s Triumph

Hello my beloved fellow souls,

welcome back to Danbi’s Room, your weekly dose of safe space. Go grab a cup of something warm and get yourself cosy.

I hope you got to see a lot of beautiful things in the past two weeks. I hope you had the energy to slow down and look fondly at the positive that will come into your present if you let go of of the negative past. Don’t look back in anger my loves.

I’m sorry, in the end I failed you and ended up being absent for two weeks. I…was a bit sick last Monday and Tuesday and I couldn’t really keep my eyes open…forgive me.

I was thinking about a concept I’ve seen floating around in the past few months, which is that we get to a certain point in life, sooner or later, where we lose all contact with our own perception of life; we become disconnected from reality, alien to the present moment. Anxiety kidnaps our body and soul and we’re deprived of the magic which had been surrounding us. We don’t shine anymore even if deep within the Sun is still inside us.

Now we’re like inside a black hole, we’re swallowed up by darkness, As I’m not a physicist I’m not gonna delve into the specific properties and characteristics of black holes but there’s two things I find particularly fascinating. First of all we don’t actually see black holes: we can observe their silhouette through the “light” emanated by the deadly fate the celestial body around them meet.

That, at least in my view, directly leads me to the second object of my fascination: eye pupils. Black holes absorbing light engulfed and defined by jagged colours unique to each and every one of us. I’m not gonna get too deep with this, it’s just yet another reminder that “as above so below; as below so above”. It’s a very practical and substantive quote. As always what surrounds us and what constitutes us are one the mirror of the other. In my opinion that does add the sparkle of magic back, the magic of the small things: if the cosmos is magical so are our eyes, so is whatever they gaze upon. Everything shines, so shine and laugh and be wild. Embrace and welcome all the facets of the diamonds adorning your skin, all of the layers of your luscious petals. Bask in what others might call delusion but to you it’s the truthful vision of dreams, suggested to you by the gentle whisper of the sea breeze. Look at the Moon and bathe your hair in her silver rays while loving shadows caress your head. Free yourself of perfection ‘cause it doesn’t exist and, most importantly, it doesn’t matter at all. To be honest, as far as I’m concerned, I’m not very fond of symmetry. Given that perfect symmetry on a face is physically impossible there are still many faces around which are fairly symmetrical. Might be ‘cause I love drawing portraits but lopsided faces are so much more beautiful to me. So much more charming. They tell stories. A smile tenderly curving towards the right side of a visage lovely followed by downwardly slanted eyes, paused by a crooked nose decorated by messy curly hair…I’m always going to choose that over everything else.

Maybe you learn to love faces the way you learn to appreaciate food from different cultures and new genres of music. New art. You just need to domesticate yourself to it until you find the key of the immense amount of love you can pour inside of it. Something that completely changes your life and your outlook. Sometimes you don’t even notice its light making its way in your soul like a stream but one day you wake up, you feel it and you just have the sensation of being fuller and lighter and you start seeing colours again. Like good news after a year of numbness.

It might seem impossible but I can guarantee it’s possible. Miracles happen all the time and when they do we must be ready to see them, so we can go to the triumphs of our childhood and lay our bare feet on the soil again.

Today song recommendation is Shine On You Crazy Diamond by Pink Floyd. It’s a favourite of mine and it’s beautifully evocative in all of its parts. Just lay down and spoil yourself with 25 minutes of bliss.

I hope you enjoyed this episode and that you have a beautiful week ahead of you!

I’ll see you in the next one, big hug!

With love, yours,

Danbi

[returntosaturn271995]

Friday, September 22nd, 2023: Integrity and Style

It's one of those deceptively hot rainy days. I threw on a teal fuzzy sweater, black leather pants, and my black, heeled timberlands, black beanie, and black leather backpack and walked to Palmy's. Other people seemed to have the same idea and I am now sitting with a sprinkle of rain on my computer and a sprinkle of sweat misting my stomach.

I was trying to romanticize my life and ended up uncomfortably answering emails in a very cute outfit. Still, while I most definitely am going to end up ubering home (update, I did walk home out of sheer spite that the lyft cost $8), it's good to get outside and enjoy public life outside of my runs. There's a winding tree in front of my table outside with a chain of old bells running down the front, rusted by the sea breeze. Light bulbs on string wrap around the crooked branches. This place would look beautiful at night. Inside there's a poster for hibachi nights Tuesday through Sundays, maybe I can drag someone to go with me.

Speaking of which I just got an email from the PB half-marathon and 5 K. My packet arrives next Thursday, the 28th and I am stoked! Also nervous. It depends if the butterflies in my stomach are actually just fat-ass caterpillars that refuse to race. I plan to run an actual 5 K tomorrow or Sunday. The point isn't to be fast, the point is to finish.

Which I can do.

Credit card paid. Emails emailed.

Lately, due to increased book reading and lack of alcohol consumption, I've been writing more and more little scenes in my head. Some are for stand up and some are for THE BOOK that continues to roll around in my head and some are just kind of moody. I'm transferring them to my computer from the truly hideous handwriting in my notebook.

There's probably an 80% chance I'm a terrible fucking writer, but I mean, damn, I do know how to make myself laugh. That's a skillset.

Another funny/meta thing as this journal ages past a year is that I know what I did/thought exactly a year ago:

"There’s such an aimlessness that promotes drinking and fucking up. This subtle but anxiety-inducing restlessness collects like stray crumbs into the nooks and crannies of your mind. That’s where the bullshit behavior, the habits you developed to distract and soothe, really kick in. 

Maybe I don't want to be distracted anymore. Maybe I like it when the woman on the street compliments my outfit as “amazing for a Thursday”. Maybe I want to be amazing and stop waiting for a special fucking day to put on my best. I don’t need to clean my room on a “who-is-coming-over-for-sex” basis."

This is an example of a lesson I remind myself of a lot. Today is the special occasion. Don't wait to burn nice candles or wear a fabulous outfit. Look good regardless of who can see you. Dress up and clean your room for yourself. You deserve it. It starts as self-esteem and develops into integrity- who you are when no one's watching.

Your habits end up being less performative even if you're technically more adorned. Romanticizing your own life is wearing a suit during the apocalypse. Cinematic. Ridiculous. Symbolic. A signal that you care about yourself and have a firm idea of who you are.

Today at Palmy's there was a Black girl with long shiny braids in a lavender hoodie in white writing that said "Got Privilege?". Immediately I felt like I knew her a little. She has experiences and a perspective, a sense of humor and a boldness.

Clothing and style will always be important to me.

When I got home, I peeled off the sweater and pants I thought went with the weather. Literally peeeeled in the case of the leather pants, I do not think they would have come back on with the sweat and my recent muscle gain. Then I dressed in a multi-colored striped yarn dress. I'm way more fucking comfortable and it matches my mood.

[bike42]

Tuesday 8/19

I should know better than looking at weather.com each morning, but it’s what I do. Temp was in the low 40s and rain until 10am, psyched myself out, but still I prepared for another wet day.

It’s “moving day” today so we were up at 6am packing again. Had some time for stretching and Jeff had a hot chocolate and sat and read in our sitting area. Down for breakfast which started at 7:30am, but they’re a bit unorganized and we barely got and finished our food before the 8:30am round up in the library.

We picked up our sandwiches and reloaded our snack bags and headed out. All but 2 people opted for the long option, but another 2 only hiked up a ways and then turned back.

That left 13 hikers plus Jenn and Keith today doing the 9 mile route up and over the pass. The magic somehow happens to get the vans to the end of our route.

Up the hill, we warmed up fast and sun came out! I was undecided about starting with my puffy coat and rain pants layer, but was pretty warm once we got to the top. Some even went down to T-shirts! We stopped at the top to view the deer on the hillside watching us, and Keith gave us a little chat about the Highland Games:

Must wear a kilt with a pair of shorts, tshirt, hose and boots

Evolved differently in US (steroids), drug tested here in Scotland.

Shot put (cannon ball)

Hammer Toss

Caber (with waterlogged telegraph pole) stand it up and run with it to try to stand it up

The sun stayed out for sometime, but the breeze was cool and I kept my shell on and eventually even added my wool cap and light gloves.

We had a more serious river crossing jumping stones. I went first and was glad for long legs and good balance! I got to the other side and did a “time lapse” video of everyone crossing. Keith helped Cathy across, but then she lost her balance and fell into the side stream! Everyone offered dry clothes and she was fine the rest of the day, just embarrassed I imagine.

It was a beautiful hike with mountains, lochs and rushing streams. There are pretty flowers and some remnants of heather. I remarked to Jeff that I’m hiking faster than I’d normally be since the flowers are past their peak!

We got to a turn on the trail, a part where we’d be lost without the guides. A cloud descended on us and rain drops started. Seemed like real rain, so I put on my rain pants and was glad I did as it rained quite heavily for a bit!

We got down to a loch and the stones turned to pink and white - it was gorgeous! There were places where we could see the trail under a foot of water. Jenn said last week she sat on the “beach” here; amazing how these bogs collect and discharge water!

It had stopped raining and my rain pants were fairly clean so I took them off, and added my puffy jacket under my rain jacket. My feet were completely wet - mainly from stepping off the trail into a bog while avoiding a puddle. Since we were stopped, I ate half of my sandwich. Some others went on ahead and Jeff & I hung back with Jenn and Karri & Nelson.

At about 7 miles, we came to a “Bothy,” an old homestead renovated into a place where hikers can rest or sleep. I expected it to be much more primative! There we found the rest of our group finishing their lunches, plus Jules and Trish & Richard who had hiked up the two miles from the car park.

We finished our sandwiches. It felt great to sit inside in chairs - a real luxury! It was an easy 2 miles down to the van. We chatted with Jenn about her work with Backroads and her family. She definitely has the right stuff to do this line of work. It’s neat to hear that Backroads values her background as an educator, and she served as a trainer and mentor to new guides.

The rain was just starting as we got back to the van. We had a quiet 90 minute drive to Portree on the Isle of Skye. When I was here 32 years ago, the island seemed more remote and you had to catch a ferry to get here. Now there is a bridge, and the windows in the fan were so fogged with humidity that I only saw glimpses as we traveled to Portree!

I had changed from my wet boots into my Chacos while we were in the van - my wet and dirty gaiters, rain pants and socks were in a plastic bag. I carried my wet boots into the lobby and the lady at reception took them from me to put them in the boiler room where they would dry - fantastic service. We checked into The Cullin Hills Hotel - more modern than the last place, with very nice rooms again. We had less than an hour, but we quickly did some hand wash and showered. Fantastic heated towel rack and radiators to help dry our stuff!

We gathered in the salon to hear Angus and Ailie - a Scottish musical duo. Angus was most outgoing and demonstrated Highland Bagpipes (1785 originally), Scottish Small Pipes, Border Pipes and various “Whistles,” while Airlie played the Scottish Small Harp. They played just “tunes,” no songs … even though each number had a story behind the tune. They did a great job relating the instruments and music to Scottish history. For the final number, they taught us a little dance - those of us brave enough to perform!

We had another group dinner following the performance. We sat with our Wisconsin neighbors and had a nice time. I got a dram of Skye whisky to take back to the room - just a subtle hint of peat - just right!

[dsandrvk]

Tuesday, September 5 - Newport

It was a foggy approach to Newport harbor this morning, and as we anchored out away from all the other boats, it gradually lifted, and lighthouses and bridges appeared, along with more pleasure craft than I can remember seeing in one place. This truly is a sailing capital of America. It took our tender almost a half hour to go slowly through the narrow channel created through all the boats moored here. By the time we docked it was already quite hot and humid, so after dropping some stuff at the post office to mail home (a way to not overfill our small suitcases on our trip back), we hopped on the free trolley to the southern start of the Cliff Walk, which is one of the things to do here if one doesn't want to just visit the shopping street.

Our trolley driver was quite informative, and we were also told that there was another trolley at the north end of the walk to bring us back to the transportation center, although there was only literature on the one we were taking at this time. We started the walk at the more challenging end, where the "path" is sometimes just a scramble over a bunch of rocks. This walk crosses 64 private properties in its 3-1/2 miles, most of them a "summer cottage", which is a euphemism for mansion. As a result, the lawns of the estates and the beaches and rocks on the seaward side of the path are off-limits, but it doesn't really matter.

Even walking north with the sun on our backs, and a slight ocean breeze, we were quickly drenched in sweat, and wondering why we were doing this. Around every bend was another huge, opulent property, most with huge expanses of lawn, including "The Breakers", a 70 room "cottage" built by Cornelius Vanderbilt II and now run by the Newport Preservation Society. By this time, the path had become a paved walkway, and except for a short detour due to erosion, continued past more mansions, including many that are now part of a college. The cost of maintaining just one of these places could probably be the budget for a small town.

We eventually and gratefully got to the northern end of the walk, but there was no sign of a trolley stop, and just when we were wondering what to do, one went by on the other side of the street and we realized it would be at least a half hour until another. Our other option was to walk along the main road to where we knew there were trolley stops on the line we had taken out to the start, in about a mile. This led us back to an area of clothing stores and the International Tennis Hall of Fame, shown in the last photo. We found a patch of shade, and our trolley eventually came, and we were grateful that it was air conditioned. Newport probably has more to offer, but with the weather (90 degrees and super high humidity) and the timing as our last day, our hearts just weren't into exploring more.

We decided to just go back to the ship and have a late lunch and ignore the rest of the town. Instead, we took advantage of a last day in the pool and hot tub on board, and worked on packing up for our short stay in New York. I'm pretty sure I can get it all in the suitcase and the pack!

We pulled up anchor around 5, and headed out from the sheltered bay, and quickly got swallowed up again by the sea fog. We are unlikely to see the Statue of Liberty on our sail towards our midtown Manhattan dock tomorrow, as we will pass it around 4:30. We are looking forward to a couple of days in the big city, but also dreading it a bit because of the unseasonable heat and humidity, which will affect all the running around we would like to do. Hard to believe it was really cold crossing the North Atlantic - some of the things we mailed home today were our warm gloves and hats. Our reality has changed.

[news4usonline]

The Lakers have no answers for Jamal Murray

LOS ANGELES (Compton Bulletin) – Defense has one of the things the Los Angeles Lakers have been able to hang their hats on going into the Western Conference Finals against the Denver Nuggets. That’s been tossed to the wind by the Nuggets in this best-of-seven series. The Lakers watched Denver guard Jamal Murray go off again on one of his scoring barrages. After busting the Lakers’ chops with 37 points in Game 2, lit Los Angeles up for another 37 points in Game 3.

Denver Nuggets guard Jamal Murray (27) shoots under Los Angeles Lakers forward Anthony Davis (3) during the second half of Game 1 of the NBA basketball Western Conference Finals series, Tuesday, May 16, 2023, in Denver. (AP Photo/Jack Dempsey) This time around, Murray hit the Lakers with 30 points in the first half to lead Denver to a 119-108 win. “He got off scorching,” Lakers coach Darvin Ham said. “I felt like we were doing a pretty decent job on everyone else. He's one of those players, man, once he starts to see them go in, it's just he catches fire, and he rolls them off pretty quickly, which he did in that first half. Basically carried them offensively through that half.” Murray scored 17 points in the first quarter and nearly matched what the Lakers put up on the scoreboard in the period as Denver raced out to a 32-20 advantage. Denver coach Mike Malone talked about the importance of his team getting off to a fast start. “You have to give Jamal Murray a lot of credit in that regard,” Malone said. “I thought Jamal, what did he have in the first quarter? I know he had 30 at halftime. 17 in the first quarter. Shooting into a big basket, and his teammates were finding him. “That's one thing I love about our team as well is that there is no sensitivity. If a guy has got it going, we're going to ride that guy, knowing at some other point in the game we are going to need somebody else to step up and make a play. I thought tonight was a perfect example of that. It was Jamal early, it was Jamal and Nikola late and a lot of guys in between that stepped up.” The Nuggets are not off to a 3-0 advantage in this series by accident. Besides their obvious scoring talents, the Nuggets can play defense, too. In Game 3, Denver only allowed the Lakers to score 30 points or more in just one quarter. The Nuggets outscored the Lakers 35-26 in the final period to seal their third win of the series. Murray said the way the Nuggets have been playing has “been good.” “I think we've just been on a string,” Murray said. “We're on the same page with what we're doing, even when we mix it up in timeouts and adjustments game to game. Everybody is just on the same page. When we mess up, we don't get too down. I think that's the biggest thing. Just next possession and get back to it. We can't hang our head in the Playoffs, and we're doing a good job of just trucking along and getting back on the same page like I said.” Jamal Murray's 53 points over the last three quarters is the most points over a three-quarter stretch since the 1998 Playoffs. pic.twitter.com/Sgbz9hi3vq— NBA History (@NBAHistory) May 21, 2023 The Nuggets came into the Western Conference Finals as the top seed. The Lakers are the No. 7 seed. Denver is simply playing the Lakers like they are the best team in the Western Conference. The Nuggets finished the regular season as the best team in the Western Conference. The postseason thus far has been nothing but validation of the success that the Nuggets have enjoyed. Denver breezed by the Minnesota Timberwolves in the first round and whisked past the Phoenix Suns in the second round. Getting to the NBA Finals required the Nuggets to go through the Lakers, a team that poked their way past the Memphis Grizzlies, the No. 2 team in the conference, and last season’s champion Golden State Warriors. Right now, the Nuggets are hitting the Lakers right square in the mouth. It’s time for the Lakers to respond if they want to keep their season alive. “I mean, just got to get one,” Lakers forward LeBron James said. “Just one at a time. Just focus on Game 4, and you know, that's all you can really think about. I mean, obviously, this game is over and done with. We had some opportunities, but we didn't come through. So just get ready for Monday and just got to get one. It's a one-game series for us. Every game counts, obviously.” This article appears courtesy of the Compton Bulletin Read the full article

[quirkless-accident]

Thermos; more daunting horror realization that danny was the only frontliner in the face of danger with all the little/ big things he do and danny is so unphased by it cuz to him its normal and he doesnt see anything wrong with it. And he's being toyed with, hunted down and hated by people he protects! And he's like 'eh, thats another tuesday'

He doesnt see how it damages his mental/ emotional health because he always brushes himself aside for the more bigger, immediate threat.

Danny's been terrifyingly calm about the whole situation.

He's been with them for a month, now. There hasn't been a single tear shed, and there hasn't been any kind of panic attack or any other kind of trauma response that Shouta and Hizashi had been expecting. Especially from such a young teenager.

But he did have a terrible habit of throwing himself into his work.

Since he's stuck with Shouta and Hizashi, it was easy enough to have him apply for the new school year. The kid's incredibly smart, and absorbs knowledge like a sponge. His strengths are in math, science, and oddly enough, literature. English is a breeze since he already knows how to speak it, so Hizashi has created a lesson plan to teach him JSL. While he hasn't taken the entrance exam yet, with his powers and obsession to do good, there was no way he wouldn't make it.

If he wasn't going over the history he missed with Nemuri, and if he needed a break from trying to figure out how to build a massive ghost portal from scratch, he was found training. He would go on morning and evening jogs, with some kind of intense workout in between. Hizashi had insisted he take a break every now and then, but Danny had simply told them he didn't know how.

"What do you mean by that?" Shouta had asked.

"Well, I'm not used to not being busy," Danny replied with a shrug. "If I'm not in school I'm studying or going on patrol. When I'm at home my parents have me clean the lab or have me help them out. Between all of that and the unplanned trips to the Ghost Zone I hardly have enough time to myself."

"Kid, that isn't healthy," Shouta tells him. Danny just gives him another shrug, and Shouta can't help but ask, "What about the other heroes?"

"There weren't any other heroes, remember?" Danny sighs, and he looks so much older now than he has any right to be at fifteen. "I mean, my friends helped me out occasionally, but I was the only one with any kind of powers."

"That must have been so hard," Hizashi says sympathetically. Danny, though, just waves him off.

"It wasn't ever a big deal," he says. "With all the ghosts everywhere someone needed to step up. I just so happen to be the best option. But it's better, now. Here there are tons of heroes so I can actually relax and focus on what I need to get done."

The conversation had puttered off into small talk, but Shouta and Hizashi's thoughts were going a mile a minute.

They knew he was from the pre-quirk era, but it hadn't quite sunken in that he was still by himself. Sure, he had friends to help him, but they were still limited in what they could do. Some days they could only pick Danny up and bandage him up for another day.

The scars were the worst part. Shouta and Hizashi have their own, and have no problem walking around the house shirtless. But they're adults. They chose this life, to be heroes and to put their lives on the line to protect the general public. From the sounds of it, though, Danny never had that option. He died, but he was never given the option of resting. And if his bowling ball-sized scars are anything to go by, it's been going on for far too long.

It's a lazy Tuesday afternoon two weeks before the entrance exam when Shouta finally breaks down and asks him.

"What kind of things did you protect your town from?"

"Ghosts, mostly," Danny answers easily. "Most of them are harmless, like the Box Ghost and Skulker." Shouta remembers these names from past stories, already committed to memory. "But sometimes there were...There were really bad ones. Vlad Plasmius was like, my arch nemesis. Another halfa, though I'm sure he's a full ghost by now. There was my evil older self that I had to fight, too. And then there was Pariah Dark, the old ghost king. He's the one that did this." Danny lifted up his shirt to find a circular scar the size of a dinner plate. There were divots in the skin where they were pierced by whatever he was hit with.

"He got a lucky shot in with his Morningstar," Danny explains with a shrug. "Probably would have actually kicked it if I hadn't been wearing armor."

That was another thing they were still getting used to. They knew Danny was dead, but Danny's casual relationship with it was jarring. To everybody else, dying was a big deal. It was serious, and there was always a chance it could happen at the drop of a hat, but for Danny it was different. He knew where he was going when his human half died. He had no reason to not be ready for the other side.

Shouta's heart absolutely ached for the kid. Hizashi always told him he had a bleeding heart when it came to kids, but he's thought much of it until now. Because that's what Danny was. A kid. And he's already saved the world at least three times over, almost single-handedly. He's got the scars and the stories to prove it, and Shouta-

He takes a deep breath in to calm his shaking hands. Because on his bad days, when Danny is grinning at him so hard his eyes are closed, he sees Oboro. He sees another fifteen year old ready to take on the world and win, only to be crushed without a second thought. It's a miracle that Danny still smiles as easily as he does.

Still, that doesn't stop him from convincing Danny to try therapy out. He's got nightmares in spades, and there are some days where he doesn't-can't-say a word to either of them for one reason or another. More than once he's caught Danny just starring vacantly off into space. So, yeah, he didn't cry, but his body and mind were getting him to deal with it one way or another.

They don't know how long they're going to have Danny, but they're fully prepared to help him in any way he needs. And right now? He really needs it.

Even if he doesn't realize it himself.